My body moves before my brain catches up. I grip the railing, voice sharp enough to cut through the chaos. “End that dance. Bring her to my office. Now.”
Two of my men don’t hesitate. They cut through the shadows, closing in on the table. The man in the chair starts to protest, but one sharp look from my men silences him cold. She doesn’t resist when security moves to take her. Instead, she tilts her chin higher, defiant, daring me to punish her for putting me through hell.
Good. She’ll get her wish.
I’m already waiting when they guide her upstairs. The instant the door shuts, silence crashes down—thick, suffocating. She leans against the wall like she owns it, arms crossed over her bare tits, lips swollen and wet, chest rising and falling like she’s proud of the wreckage she left me in.
“What the fuck were you doing out there?” I say, accusing.
Her smirk curves, infuriating and intoxicating. “What did it look like? I was dancing. Entertaining. That’s the point, isn’t it?”
Two strides and I’m on her, bracing my palms against the wall on either side of her head. The wood rattles with the force. Mychest hovers close to hers. “Don’t insult me. That wasn’t a dance. That was you putting yourself in my crosshairs.”
She lifts her chin, feigning calm, though her chest rises faster with every breath. “Or maybe you don’t like seeing me give someone else attention.”
My hand finds her jaw, fingers digging just enough to hold her still. “You weren’t giving him attention, you never looked at him,” I bite out. “Not once. You whispered in his ear while keeping your eyes onme, like you wanted me to tear him apart. And when you put your hands on yourself…” My gaze drops to her breasts, then returns, molten. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”
Her lips part on a shaky laugh, though her voice trembles under the weight of it. “And maybe I liked it. Watching you lose control.”
The dam inside me fractures. I press in, caging her fully, every ragged breath brushing her lips. Her pupils dilate, the bravado slipping, and when I drag my thumb across her mouth, she licks it—slow, filthy. A sound slips from her throat, half-moan, half-defiance, and it detonates inside me.
“Careful, Angel,” I rasp, my forehead nearly touching hers. “I’m not the sort of man to play games with.”
I dip, just enough for my mouth to hover a whisper above hers. My nose grazes hers, our breaths tangling, her chest rising fast against mine. Her lips part, waiting, daring, her body softening into me like she’s seconds from shattering.
I want to kiss her. Fuck, I want to consume her. My tongue aches for her taste, memory dragging me back to a night I’ll never forget, my body wound so tight I’m seconds from losing every shred of control.
Before it goes any further, I tear myself back. My breath saws between us, harsh, like I’ve just dragged myself off the edge of a cliff. Her lips stay parted, furious and wanting, and when her eyes cut into mine, the blaze there could burn us both alive.
“You’re finished for tonight,” I tell her, my voice edged with impatience. “Get dressed. I’ll coveryour tip out.”
Her eyes narrow. “And if I don’t?”
A laugh breaks from me, dangerous, stripped of any real humor. “Then I’ll drag you out of here myself. Either way, you’re done.”
She tilts her chin, defiant even as her breath stutters. “Where are we going?”
I lean close enough that my words graze her lips. “We’re going to have dinner. Like civilized adults.” My smile is sharp. “Now go. Get. Fucking dressed.”
The car purrsbeneath us like it belongs in another world entirely. Sleek. Expensive in a way that makes my stomach flip. I knew back in Detroit that Theo had money—he tipped like it, dressed like it, carried himself like it—but sitting in this car now, watching the city lights streak across the glossy dash, I realize I only ever saw the surface. This is different. This is power disguised as luxury.
His hand grips the gear shift, long fingers resting with lazy control, veins taut under skin. It’s obscene how sexy it looks—how something so simple makes my thighs press together like I’m trying to hold myself steady. He isn’t wearing jewelry, no flashy watch tonight, just that hand—strong, sure, and far too easy to imagine curled around his cock.
I force my gaze out the window, but it doesn’t help. Everything about this car feels intimate, from the leather that molds around me to the quiet hum of the engine. It smells like him, too—clean spice and heat, like he’s pressed into every inch of it. Like I’ve been swallowed whole into his space, his rules.
“You’re quiet,” he says, not looking at me, eyes fixed on the road like he doesn’t need to check if I’m unraveling beside him.
I clear my throat. “Maybe I’m just wondering what kind of man drives a car like this.”
“The kind you should probably stay away from.” He shiftsgears, a subtle smirk pulling at his mouth. “But it’s a little too late for that.”
“You always make a habit of abducting women from their place of work?” I ask finally, voice dry.
“Only the ones who try to drive me insane.”
“Congratulations, then. You’ve found your masochistic streak.”
His gaze cuts to me, and it’s enough to make me shift in my seat. Those eyes haven’t softened. If anything, they’ve grown sharper, colder. “Don’t confuse me for someone who enjoys pain, Angel,” he says. “I’m the one who gives it.”
